Steven Seagal

To be honest we here at deadman/party love the early films of Mr. Seagal, the quartet of low-brow odes to masculinity that precede Under Siege. There is perhaps nothing finer than watching a grown man play pretend and then lay to waste ten men, not altogether or even two at a time, but ten men one by one by one. But we must punch this bloated sack of stupidity, though not for the low satisfaction of deflating a gasbag that thinks he is suuuuuch a tough guy.

A lifetime of self-mocking commercials made long after relevance cannot change how unspeakably awful an actor is. In fact, Mr. Seagal’s desperate pleas for acceptance (and attention) make him all the more disgusting. It isn’t that we do not appreciate self mockery, it just seems a little sour when the last twenty-three movies he has made–this is twenty-three out of a grand total of thirty-five–have gone straight to DVD. Certainly he did not feel so humble at the height of his career when he uttered, “I am hoping that I can be known as a great writer and actor some day, rather than a sex symbol.” Keep reaching for that rainbow buddy.

What may be more amazing than his failed attempt to emulate Orson Welles is how he shows “his deep love and care for others is exemplified in his commitment to do his part to make this a better world.” The above is taken directly from the Philanthropy page of his website, which is next to the page featuring his collection of “classics [and] some of today’s hottest axes” complete with a teenager’s bragging descriptions of just how rare each guitar is. He saved a puppy in a garbage bag thrown out of a car window in the movie where he murders somewhere in the neighborhood of 45 people in order to exact his revenge on the man who killed his friend, aptly titled Out for Justice. And he also made a movie in which he murders a bunch of people in Alaska for harming the earth. Not to be confused with the movie in which he murders a bunch of people for harming the earth in Montana and the other movie in which he murders a bunch of people for harming the earth in Kentucky. It is obvious that no one has a tighter grip on the teachings of the Buddha than Steven Seagal, except perhaps a stoned college student.

And besides being an accomplished martial artist, writer, director, producer and activist Mr. Seagal has also committed the greatest sin any actor can commit: claiming to be a musician. And not just any type of musician but a blues musician, if you can call this the blues. More surreal than a Fellini picture, the video was once described by an acquaintance as “R&B, or at least Steven Seagal’s version of it, accompanied by images of him marrying his Thai child bride.” Perhaps worse, his albums are entitled Mojo Priest and Crystal Cave, enough even to make the members of Ten Gallon Sack (every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday Night down at Snappers. Dollar Drafts on Tuesday!) blush. Anyone interested in knowing more can click here.

But before this turns into a book (or sutra, if you will) we must finally declare our intentions to attack him and punch him, not one by one, but as an editorial board for the first time in his life.